The wolves watch us watching them, and I recall the two wolves chasing the snowshoe hare across the field. How fast they claimed that animal as their prize. I remember wondering how the rabbit's heart must have known without doubt that it would be eaten. I think about this as we turn our backs on the wolves, and head deeper into the woods. I try to bury the worry, because we're not rabbits. We are humans. We are hunters. We are not prey.
